A/N: Thanks to Dark-Wiccan-Goddess and EdwardCullencArAzY for reviewing. I always always really appreciate reviews, no matter how short or long.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not I.

063. Whisper -

I wanted to think for so long that you would eventually go away – you would just be a whisper in my memory as you grew old and died. I wanted my life to continue – unshakable, predictable, and eternal. But then again, I also wanted you.

You walked into class that day. Yes, I'd heard it in all the boys' heads as they pass – Wow, that's Isabella Swan? I'd see plenty of gorgeous girls in my life before, I'd heard plenty of lusty thoughts on them – I'd been through it all.

Well, except for the whole falling in love part.

Your blood sang so loudly to me that day. I thought it was impossible for it to be so clear, so resonant, so touching. It felt like you had reached out and pricked whatever was left of my soul. You made me become so much more concerned about my soul. It was so unsettling. I had been this great being – so different, so distant, so defined that even my attempts at humanity were only enough to bring me down a few notches. I was still worlds away from the rest of the world, calmly only using my gifts to make sure our survival would endure and as a way to differentiate the hours of the day with a stifling human society, knowing that I would never be one of them again.

But you drew me out. You drew me out the moment my ears seemed to become deaf.

At first, with your posture so defensive and your aura so shrouded, I thought maybe I wasn't straining hard enough – maybe your thoughts were only whispers. Maybe your blood was singing so loudly to me that I couldn't turn down the cacophony and hear you.

But it didn't work. I found out that even if I wished for everything about you to be whispers, the volume wouldn't go down. There was no mute. Seeing you, hearing you, oh God, talking with you, it was voluminous! But your mind was off-limits – a special mute for me and the rest of the world that instead made the grossest sound of all: silence. But I knew you weren't whispering even in there. I had to think that you were screaming in agony over the fact that you had to sit next to me, see me, you had to HATE me. I took off to Denali to get over the noise, and maybe reduce you to a whisper. I thought I had it under control, I thought I could make it.

But it didn't work. You came on even louder. It was as though shouts where emanating from you when you walked by. Even someone thinking about you would send me off and I would be stuck with the blaring moments that I am forced to always remember. I realized then that they never would fade to whispers. How could I forget my nature and think I could suppress such deep thoughts and feelings and hope that I would forget or only have to deal with occasional ruminations? How could I?

And now, I'm willing to pay the price to be stuck with shouting for the rest of our days. I want to constantly be in your cacophonous world and to have to sort out the mess to figure out everything about you and not be able to pick it out of your head. I love your mind's roaring wall, your blood's shrieking song, your body's clamoring call – it's all you. You – the greatest bellow of all.